A Knock At The Door
by oneoneohohone
Summary: old habits die hard... so do old friendships. sequel to 'before we grow up.' oneshot.


_a/n_: whoooooa! whatever happened to 11oo1 you ask? well she fell in love, got engaged, etc. how the time flies. oddly, at the time when I should have felt most inspired, what with all the yucky love crap going on, I found myself interested only in him. that's still the case. but then, late one sleepless night... this story fell out of my head. leaked from my very ears, it did! I had planned on this story for a while, and finally it all came to me. _yes,_ I will finish _color me cool,_ there is way too much of that story to abandon it. _yes_, I will finish _dawn_, because I intend to find out exactly how dawn lost her spirit and sparkle. will it be soon? uhhhhhm... I'll try. I have wedding plans to make after all.

**a knock at the door**

Rain was pounding down. Not exactly unusual for winter in Northern California. Last year I hated the rain. I craved snow. Thick, fluffy snow, iced over ponds, my breath hanging in the air. I missed it terribly. But now I'm okay. I realize now I was homesick. I didn't really hate it here.

But man, I thought I did. I spent all my free time emailing people. My mom, Karen, Emily, my brothers, Mary Anne, even Mallory. One night, in a fit of loneliness, I even searched the internet for Mr. Derek Higgins. I found him, too. I never contacted him, though. I'd only done it because I'd had a blowout with Alan.

Alan. I emailed him most of all. Every day, several times a day. I'd call him at least three times a week. _I want out of here._ Constantly. I hated California.

And then . . . I'm not quite sure when I got over it. But I did. I still talk to Alan often. I still love him. I've remained completely faithful to him, and I'm proud of that.

I'm a Sophomore now. I love it here at Davis. I love the school, the people, my classes, my roommate. I still live in the dorms, and my roommate is a girl named Theresa. We're not inseparable best friends or anything, but we go out a lot. I obtained a fake ID quite easily. Theresa's already 21, she doesn't need one. Me, I'm still a lowly 19. Just a baby.

Anyway. I don't talk to Alan as often as I used to. Sometimes I feel bad about that. I still love him as much as ever . . . more than ever. Over winter break we both returned to Stoneybrook. Alan mentioned marriage a couple times. I don't know what he's planning. I do know I'm not leaving this school, and I'm pretty sure he doesn't want to leave Florida.

I try not to think about this stuff too much. I've been told by several different therapists in my time that I live in my mind too much. I need to live in the moment, not think so much about what I might do or should do or forgot to do. Relax, Thomas. The world won't end if you forget about tomorrow.

I grabbed a baseball cap from my desk. Yankees. I glanced in the mirror and tucked my hair beneath it. Damn rain. I'd just colored my hair burgundy and wanted people to see. It wouldn't cause too much of a stir. My hair changes about once a month. Not to make a statement or be cool, but because I see a color I like and grab it. Why stick with boring old brown or blonde? There's an entire rainbow to be had out there.

I shrugged into a coat - nothing too thick, it is _not_ cold here. It's pretty much to keep the rain off of me. Grabbing my purse, I started for the door. I'm meeting Theresa for coffee in half an hour. It's only a ten minute walk, but . . . well, I've grown to love the rain.

Just as my hand touched the knob, someone knocked softly.

I frowned, glancing at my watch. I wasn't expecting anyone. I pulled my hand back from the knob, calling out "Who is it?" it may sound paranoid, but I never just open the door here. I've heard too many college horror stories, I suppose.

I waited. After a few moments, a small voice responded. A female voice. A familiar one.

"Kristy, it's me. Dawn."

I closed my eyes, willing myself not to groan out loud. Opening the door slowly, I prepared myself for the train wreck that was Dawn Schaffer.

And there she was. Her once sparkling blue eyes dull and sunken in. Her hair was short, chin length, and messy. She looked like she was about ten pounds underweight. She swam in the clothes she wore. She smiled weakly at me. "Hey."

I'm not sure where Dawn lives, or even that she has a place to live. All I know is that she shows up here every few months. I always take her out, we have a few laughs, she asks me for money, I give it to her, she promises to pay it back, and I don't see her for a few months. She's never paid me back a dime. Not that I care. As long as she's safe. She's the only BSC member I've kept any contact with besides Mary Anne. Stacey is off doing her thing in New York and Claudia apparently dropped off the face of the earth. Mary Anne was really worried about Dawn when she first left - only three weeks after our fateful vacation in Sea City. Over time, that worry has slowly worn off. Dawn seems to be an afterthought to her now. I guess Dawn sends a post card once in a while saying she's fine. Mary Anne doesn't know I've seen her sister. It would just take too much explaining.

Besides, what Dawn does is her own business. I'm sure that if her family knew what she was going through they would help her, but I don't think Dawn wants help. She has always been a free spirit, and while she may be a prisoner of habit, she still has a stubborn, slightly self-righteous streak.

Don't get me wrong. Do I sound like I hate her? I really don't. I love Dawn dearly, I don't care about the money. My only thing is that it makes me so _sad_ to see her like this. There was once a time when she wanted to quit, go straight. Those days are long, long over.

Dawn was already inside of my room, stripping off her too-big jacket. I glanced at my watch. Theresa in twenty-five minutes. Should I just bring Dawn with me? I don't know if I trust her enough to leave her alone in my room.

"What's up?" I asked her, trying not to sound hurried.

"Carlos kicked me out of his place. In Chico? Yeah, it took me three days to get here . . . " She sighed loudly.

I nodded. I don't have a clue who Carlos is, and was not aware she'd been living in Chico. I watched silently as she opened up my mini-fridge and pulled out a pizza box. "How old is this?"

"Just got it last night." I replied, somewhat overwhelmed.

Dawn fished a slice of supreme pizza from the box and sat on my bed with another sigh. "I am SO hungry." She mumbled through a mouthful of pie, meat and all. "Do you know where I can get some Oxy?"

For a moment I flashed to the zit-clearing cream, then thought better of it. Oh. Oxy. "I'm not... sure." I stumbled over my words, still overwhelmed. She was an Oxycontin addict now? What happened to uppers? Talk about an expensive habit. "Maybe. Why?"

"I haven't had any in almost two days. I stole some from Carlos while I was packing my shit, but I sold some to get some food and took the rest. I'm starting to get a little shaky. Do you have any Vicodin or anything around here?"

I wasn't thinking straight. Dawn has an adverse effect on me. "I have some Tylenol with Codeine leftover from a root canal . . . "

Dawn's face brightened. "Hey! It's not much but it'll do."

I pulled open my dresser drawer, glancing at my watch again. Twenty minutes. Numbly, I took the bottle of Codeine and handed it over to Dawn. She popped it open expertly and counted them. "Cool. Can I have the rest?"

"Sure." I took a deep breath. "Did you--"

"Yeah, I was hoping I could borrow some money. Just enough for a bus ticket to Anaheim. I want to go see Jeff and my Dad."

I wondered if that were true. Still, I reached into my purse. "How much do you need?"

"Like, two hundred? Or whatever you can spare . . . "

I winced, and bypassed my wallet to grab my checkbook. I quickly scrawled out a check for three hundred. "Are you okay? Do you need anything else?"

Dawn paused. I took a minute to take her in, this skinny, short haired girl. She was pale, like she spent her time roaming the night now instead of drinking up her beloved sunshine. Chico - so far from the ocean. Could this be the same girl that fought and protested and recycled? Who hated meat and sugar, and judged people who didn't endlessly? That Dawn had never been a taker, she had been an endless giver - the environment, the people, her family, her friends.

"No, I don't need anything else." She said quickly after her long pause. I tore off the check and handed it to her. She leaned toward me, pecking my cheek briefly. "Thanks, Kristy. You're saving my life."

I wonder if I am. Am I helping her, giving what she wants? With addiction, it's more of a need. An often painful need. "Tell your Dad and Jeff I said hi, okay?" I replied.

"I will." She began to move toward the door. As she did, she tilted her head toward a poster that belonged to Theresa. A simple black peace sign on a white background. "I dig the poster." She added, flashing a smile.

When she did, I detected something behind the dullness in her eyes. A sparkle. Maybe a glow to her skin. A brightness to her hair.

She'll be okay.

"Bye, Dawn." I called, already wondering if that had just happened.

"Bye, Kristy. See you soon."

The door slammed. I stared at it.

See you soon, Dawn.


End file.
